


(Re)do it yourself

by bohemianrazberry



Series: (Re)Doing It Yourself - ciampa/gargano [1]
Category: NXT, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, Gentle Dom, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, candice and johnny arent together in this, kinda a makeup fic, lil bit of a, smut in the second chapt, tommaso dealing w the spectrum of morality, tommaso you feel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-15 09:56:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18071189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bohemianrazberry/pseuds/bohemianrazberry
Summary: Friends?” Tommaso offers and Johnny only scoffs.“Don’t play with me,” he murmurs lowly but a tiny smile tickles the corner of his mouth.Tommaso smiles back and pulls Johnny down by his wrist so that he can catch his mouth in a kiss.





	1. Ch 1

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo! i feel as though I've been gone for so long but anyway i got roughly caught up on NXT and now as im posting this ciampa is getting neck surgery and i am crying :/ im just gonna pretend that real life and the main roster fuck ups don't exist and that weird heel diy is still on nxt and thriving i love them so much my heart is so full of love for those boys :')
> 
> -Timeline is a little skewed bc I missed A LOT of NXT and did a horrible job catching up so even though this is kayfabe compliant it’s not real time correct. You can tell where I changed some stuff for it to make more sense.  
> -morality is a greyscale not a black and white photo :3
> 
> thanks for reading - love you :) (im on tumblr @dashanddawsons)

Johnny trails behind Tommaso even after the curtain is drawn up over the NXT Takeover crowd. His eyes flit between imploring and chastising looks people shoot him and the floor but he never addresses anyone, instead his fingers stay curled around the edge of his newly prized title. Candice tries to reach out for his arm when he passes but Johnny doesn’t stop to talk to her, instead turning his head so she pulls her hand back with obvious reluctance. 

“Johnny?” her voice sounds sad and almost disdainful. Tommaso doesn’t miss the confused and hurt expression she throws his own way before he turns away. 

Tommaso almost turns around to tell Johnny to fuck off when they round the corner together but when he looks over his shoulder, the wide eyed pathetic expression across his former friend’s face leaves him feeling self conscious and awkward.

“What are you doing?” He asks instead, his own prize is clutched tight to his chest. 

Johnny startles as he didn’t expect to be addressed at all and his brown eyes reflect Tommaso’s embarrassment, 

“Sorry, I can go-” he starts turning around and Tommaso watches his back in confusion. 

“Were you expecting something?” he doesn’t say it with malice, only raised eyebrows and genuine confusion. 

“Oh,” Johnny turns only his head, “Oh, I thought maybe you wanted-” He stops and licks his lips without meeting Tommaso’s eyes, “Maybe that you would like- that perhaps-” He looks like he wants to cry, “Maybe we were friends again?” Were they ever just friends?

Tommaso genuinely startles at the utterance, neither of them had spoken about the tension since Tommaso recovered from his knee injury. Instead, the two pretended that the encounters they had in the ring were merely random, even as they swooped in to save each other from certain loss. In the hallways following the confusion in his NXT cage win against Aleister with help from a certain former friend, Johnny met Tommaso’s eyes with quiet question but never approached him for fear of changing the circumstance for the worse. The looks were even worse following Johnny’s loss to Aleister at War Games, as though he felt betrayed that Tommaso hadn’t come to his aid.

“Is that what you want?” 

Johnny’s eyes meet his again in hopefulness and he quickly looks away when he realizes how desperate he appears.

“Is that what you want?” Johnny parrots instead. He clears his throat and shuffles aside when a stage hand brushes past, throwing a quizzical look between the two of them before rounding the next corner and out of sight. Tommaso watches the man go and waits a second before turning back to Johnny who drops his eyes again when they meet.

“Stop doing that,” he says and Johnny’s brown eyes flit back again before obviously settling in the space between Tommaso’s brows.

“Stop doing what?” 

Tommaso narrows his eyes but doesn’t elaborate and instead exhales in exasperation. This only makes Johnny look more frantic.

“Don’t do that either,” Tommaso adds while eyeing him closely. The expression on Johnny’s face only makes guilt eat at Tommaso again in a way that he used to be able to brush off. He remembers the look on Johnny’s face when he had first thrown him into the wall so many months ago and how he had been able to convince himself that it was okay. He squeezes his belt closer to his chest and feels the dig of the plate’s edge against his abdomen. For some reason the guilt resurfaces harder than before when Johnny looks so pathetic even with his newly won championship in his arms.

“People aren’t going to like you as much as they used to,” he says it matter of factly. Good ol’ Johnny Wrestling can be no more when he hangs out with someone so hated. But also the _best,_ his own belt in his grip reassures him. 

Johnny only shrugs his shoulders and now it’s Tommaso’s turn to frown. 

“Okay,” he decides and Johnny’s eyebrows go up like a puppy hearing the words _good boy._ If only he had a tail. 

Tommaso starts walking again, ears perking to the sounds of Johnny’s ring boots on the cement floor. He makes his way slowly through the hallways to ensure that they get to the locker rooms after everyone else has cleared out. Lately the atmosphere has been even more charged than usual. 

“Oh, and congratulations,” Tommaso throws the sentence casually over his shoulder but he can already feel the excitement radiating off of Johnny even as he mutters a soft attempt at a casual, “Thanks.”

There’s no one besides a few stragglers left in the locker room when they eventually get there but no one attempts to speak to them. Kassius throws Johnny a disapproving look when he realizes his association with his former tag mate but doesn’t make an attempt to reach out to him. Instead he turns back to packing his bag and leaves without a second glance. 

Tommaso takes his time changing, opting to shower back at the hotel and when he goes to the door Johnny is already standing there with his backpack on, his title nowhere to be seen.

“Got your belt?” Tommaso asks and Johnny looks up and nods motioning to his backpack.

Tommaso’s own championship rests over his shoulder, gold glinting in the harsh overhead lights. He shifts it so that he’s holding it by his side instead and makes his way out of the locker room. Stupid Johnny and his stupid lack of confidence. If he was actually champion material he would be carrying his prize for everyone to look at. Yet even so, Tommaso keeps his belt at his side instead of facing outwards like usual. 

Outside, Tommaso almost bumps into Kassius who annoyingly stands half blocking the door.

“Hey, watch it-” Tommaso spits as he shoulders past but Kassius pays him no mind.

“Hey, Johnny do you want a ride?” Tommaso looks over his shoulder in surprise but Johnny shakes his head without looking at Kassius who pushes himself up from where he was leaning against the doorway.

“Are you okay?” he asks just quiet enough for Tommaso to have to strain to hear but Johnny doesn’t reply to this, only waves him off and continues following Tommaso to his car.

“Oh, so you want a ride from me then?” Tommaso asks, voice half teasing and Johnny startles with his hand already on the passenger door handle of Tommaso’s rental.

His eyes flit to the ground and back again and Tommaso watches his jaw tighten for a moment. Over his shoulder, Kassius shadows the two of them over the top of his own rental, waiting to make sure Johnny knows what he’s doing. Does he ever though? 

“I’m just playing,” Tommaso amends quickly and Johnny meets his eyes for a second before nodding,

“Can I?”

His hands fumble in his sweat’s pockets for a moment before producing the car keys and opening the doors without answering Johnny. Tommaso throws his bag into the back seat but clings to his belt before sliding into the driver’s side. Johnny hesitates before opening his own door and settling into the seat. Once inside, the smell of Johnny’s exertion almost gives Tommaso whiplash. Cologne, sweat, and something like the remnants of soapy sweetness flash images of past intimacy through his mind. His hand almost reflexively goes to Johnny’s knee squeezed into the passenger seat to ease his worry but instead his fingers flex around the cold hardness of his belt. New habit had made him bring it with him into the driver’s seat in hopes of throwing it into the empty passenger seat. The seat where his former - now reinstated- friend sits facing the window as if there is anything to look at but empty parking lot and quiet street. Tommaso leans over the console and gently places his belt in the backseat next to his bag. Johnny’s own bag is crammed into the little foot space in front of him. 

“You sure you don’t want to put that in the back?” The gentleness of his own voice startles him and Johnny looks up out of his reverie. He is always conveniently sleepwalking now, huh. 

“No, it’s fine,” he clears his throat, “thank you.”

Tommaso slides back into the seat and starts the car, the crackle of the radio sounds but the signal is weak and only allows tiny snippets of pop music to filter through. The car pulls out into the empty street and Tommaso looks in the rear view mirror watching as Kassius visibly sighs and gets into his own car. 

Granted how long they had been friends, or whatever else, it’s hard to even imagine that time now. The silence that the crackling radio leaves behind is tense and foreign to Tommaso’s ears. Beside him, Johnny’s phone lights up with a call from Candice which he ignores by flipping the phone face down and looking out the passenger side window instead. Candice had been one of their best friends following their tag team break up, now she hates Tommaso’s guts. 

“How’s Candice?” Tommaso convinces himself that he asks this to rile Johnny up but it comes out half hearted. 

Tommaso can see Johnny eyeing him in his peripheral vision.

“She’s fine,” he says curtly. 

“So are you staying where everyone else is?” Tommaso immediately changes the subject that he brought up. Johnny shift beside him, 

“I didn’t book a room.” 

Tommaso actually looks over at him, “Why not?”

“I think I was planning on catching a flight home right after.” 

“You think?” Tommaso’s fingers twitch around the steering wheel and his voice comes out more angry than he had intended, “Do you want me to drive you to the airport, then?”

Johnny only shrugs and Tommaso’s eyes go back to the road. He makes a split second decision,

“Do you want to stay with me?” This comes out softer and less irritated, which only makes his fingers curl tighter around the wheel. Apparently tonight is all about making awful personal choices before he can fully think them through. 

The car is quiet for a long time but Tommaso continues driving in the direction of the hotel without question. It feels like that was the obvious plan set between the two of them even before the question came out of his mouth. _Do you want to stay with me?_

He pulls into the underground parking lot of the hotel without so much as a peep from Johnny who only looks exhausted and internally confused in his rumpled sweatshirt and spiking sweat damp hair. He stays quiet while he waits for Tommaso to grab his stuff from the car, toeing the gravel of the parking lot with his dirty converse. He continues silently trailing behind Tommaso even up to his hotel room while Tommaso digs around in his bag for the key card with one hand awkwardly holding his title.

“Do you want me to hold that for you?” Tommaso looks up in a flash of anger and Johnny visibly recoils and slides his empty hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

Tommaso only turns back and finally pulls his key out of his bag to open the door. This dynamic is weird. Bad weird. This is his title, this is his room. Why is Johnny here? He knows his sudden anger is irrational, he invited Johnny in, didn’t he? Johnny is silent in a way that he never should be and he looks like a kicked puppy when Tommaso turns to lash at him about it, which only makes Tommaso’s anger deflate again. What is with him tonight? What is with either of them?

“I’m going to shower.” Tommaso drops his bag by the side of the bed while flicking on the lamp light and puts his title down over the duvet. Neither of them talk about how there’s only one king sized bed. It feels like it would have been worse if they had separate beds. 

Tommaso stays under the shower spray for a long time, half hoping that Johnny would have disappeared by the time he returns. The other half of him quietly celebrates his return home - to Tommaso and the deserved win of both of their championships. Now we’re finally where we belong, he reminds himself. The sharp memory of Johnny’s face after taking a ladder to the head that AOP had meant for him suddenly flashes through his mind and he winces remembering the sound of the impact. He has to squeeze his eyes together in order to get the image out from behind his eyelids and restrain the gasp that almost leaves his mouth. That’s not even the worst of what Johnny has taken for him, nevertheless what Tommaso himself has done to him. With that, he turns off the shower and steps out. 

The fogged bathroom mirror only presents him with the outline of his lean frame and muscled torso but he watches himself anyway as he towels off. This is what you’ve worked for, he reminds himself, no one can touch you now. There is a slight ache in his shoulder but he merely stretches before pulling a towel around his hips before going back into the other room. For a moment he had forgotten that Johnny was there, perhaps his brain had actually convinced him that Johnny would disappear. Instead, the other man sits on the edge of the bed far opposite the golden sheen of the NXT championship. His own title is nowhere to be seen. 

Johnny’s unblemished and non bruised face looks up when the bathroom door opens and cracks a timid smile,

“You don’t sing in the shower anymore.”

Admittedly, his wild free running thoughts had actually prevented him from doing anything remotely pleasurable in the shower but he blushes now at the memory.

“I don’t sing in the shower,” he lies, playing along. Johnny only smiles, eyes dropping to the curl of the towel over Tommaso’s naked hips. He has forgotten himself. 

For a moment, Tommaso feels pleased at this before he realises that he too has forgotten himself. They don’t do that anymore. Instead he steps around Johnny and rummages through his bag for a clean shirt and sweats. He hears Johnny exhale before he gets up and disappears into the bathroom. Alone again, Tommaso almost wishes Johnny had had the nerve to reach out and take what he wanted. Instead he shakes his head hard and smooths a hand over his damp beard with his eyes closed. Frustration builds up but he can’t tell why and that only makes him that much more upset. Goldie glitters at him from the corner of his eye and he leans down to clasp the black strap completely forgetting his plans of dressing. Instead he sits on the edge of the bed closest to the wall and studies his prize.

Aleister had fought valiantly for his title although unsuccessfully. Tommaso’s heart swells with pride over his own accomplishments - Johnny would jokingly refer to this as hubris. Tommaso shakes the thought from his mind, he _deserves_ this, he _won_ after all. Hubris isn’t a weakness and Goldie is proof of that. His shoulder begins to ache again and he rolls it while admiring his championship. 

“You hurt your shoulder?” Tommaso jumps and clutches his title to his chest while turning at the sound of Johnny’s voice. The gentle expression slides off of Johnny’s face when his eyes slip to the tight hold Tommaso has on the belt. 

“It’s nothing,” Tommaso realizes himself and loosens his grip with rising self consciousness. Who is Johnny to judge him anyway when he’s done practically the same for his own recognition? Johnny goes over to his own bag to grab a change of clothes before going back into the bathroom without another glance. This makes Tommaso feel even worse than before and he scowls at the closed bathroom door and mutters to himself, fuck him. He puts the title down beside him and rolls his shoulder harder. The ache is more prominent now and only further sours his mood. He should get some ice.

“You should get some ice,” Johnny’s voice floats back in through the opening bathroom door and Tommaso is seconds away from growling at him. He turns again to face Johnny who stands there in a wrinkled t shirt and small dark shorts. His hair drips spiked and inky across his forehead as it air dries and his fingers grip the hem of his white shirt. The shoulders are starting to grey where his hair drips onto the frayed collar and Tommaso realizes with delayed surprise that it’s one of his own shirts that he had loaned Johnny back in the indies. Johnny doesn’t look like he remembers.

“I’m going to get ice,” Johnny clears his throat and makes his way to the bedroom door, “Can you open the door when I get back?” He hesitates with a hand on the door knob, “Please?” 

It feels like Tommaso owes him something so he nods in silence and Johnny leaves with a slight quirk of his lips. Alone again Tommaso quickly dresses into his forgotten clothes, slipping a dark shirt over his boxer briefs. He stows the remains of the clothes he came in wearing into his duffle bag and throws it onto the nearby chair. To even begin considering the sleeping situation is making his head ache. It’s going to end up with the two of them in the same bed no matter what, history guarantees this. His fingers flex at the image of Johnny’s lithe form under the mercy of his hands along with the content sigh Johnny would unknowingly make when he was held - Tommaso realizes that this is something he is okay with. 

Johnny’s backpack is half open against the bed, the red of the North American Championship peeking out from under a dirty sweat towel and sweatpants. The burgundy bothers Tommaso, that isn’t the color of a title. Or maybe it just bother him that Johnny’s belt doesn’t match his. He shakes this off. 

There’s a tentative knock at the door and Tommaso makes his way over to let Johnny in who’s carrying a bucket of ice in one arm, the other hand subconsciously pulling at the hem of his shirt. Tommaso can’t help but smile,

“You’re barefoot in the hallway,” he points out.

Johnny looks down at his bare feet on the hallway carpet as if this is new information, “Oh- yeah.” He shoots Tommaso a tentative smile which Tommaso returns with the same shyness. He moves out of the way to let Johnny back in. 

Johnny goes back into the bathroom to grab a towel before setting the bucket down on the corner of the bed. He rummages around in his bag before pulling out a case of painkillers and a tube of Icy-Hot, which he sets down on the bed. Tommaso watches him put together a makeshift ice pack using the towel, particularly careful in pouring the ice out. He winces when he rolls his neck but steps over anyway.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says quietly.

Johnny shrugs but continues his methodical process, “It’s okay,” he hesitates before adding, “I want to.”

Tommaso eyes him warily for a second but Johnny doesn’t pull away nor meet his eyes. Instead he folds over the towel and pulls Tommaso down to sit with a weak grip that allows Tommaso to pull away from him if he chooses to. Tommaso chooses not to and sits down without any further complaint. 

“Which one?” Johnny asks and Tommaso startles slightly,

“Oh, uh this one,” he nods to his right shoulder and Johnny climbs onto the bed behind him, knees barely touching the material of Tommaso’s shirt before warm hands settle against his aching shoulder. He squeezes slightly and Tommaso winces and curses almost flinching away from him in aggravation. Johnny only hums and kneads his fingers in more soothing motions and Tommaso relaxes with a sigh. His mind instinctively drifts to their old after match rituals when they were still DIY - when they were still a team. Often times Johnny’s hand would slide down his back and settle at his hips - often times they would end up in a tangled naked heap. Stop that, he tells himself.

“What?” Johnny’s hands still, “Did I hurt you?” 

Tommaso realizes that he had spoken out loud and shakes his head, “Sorry, just thinking.”

“You’re always _just thinking,_ ” Johnny mutters lowly. Tomasso doesn’t have the energy to unpack that, the only thing he’s capable of focusing on is the kneading of Johnny’s strong fingers on his overworked shoulder. Afterwards Johnny presses the towelled ice to Tommaso’s shoulder and instructs him to hold it. Tommaso’s hand catches his own over the towel and Johnny flinches and blushes red hot while pulling his hand away with muttered apology. 

“You should put the Icy-Hot on after 15 minutes or so,” he says in an attempt to cover up his embarrassment. Tommaso can’t understand why he’s embarrassed when they had already been touching far worse than that. Johnny gets back up but not before Tommaso grips his wrist and slows him down. He turns and the shocked expression on his face causes Tommaso to pull his hand back quickly. Johnny crosses his arms over his chest and looks anywhere but directly into Tommaso’s eyes, gaze instead stuck on the bridge of his nose. 

“Thank you,” Tommaso offers and Johnny nods still not exactly meeting his eyes. He uses his restrained gaze as a defense tactic.

“How’s your knee?” he asks with a slight rise of his shoulder in feigned casualness. He cares more than he lets on and Tommaso stiffens at the implications. 

Tommaso’s hackles rise in defence and he narrows his eyes. Johnny realizes his mistake and coughs to cover it up while turning away to grab his bag. Tommaso’s guilt resurfaces and he reaches out before recoiling again when Johnny flinches a miniscule. 

“Sorry,” they both speak at the same time. Tommaso meets Johnny’s eyes for a second before Johnny clears his throat and goes to put his bag on the floor by the chair where Tommaso’s own gear is stashed away. The sleek tube of the Icy-Hot bottle that Johnny had handed him admittedly reminds Tomasso of a concealed bottle of lube and he puts it down before his body can react to that information. 

“Take the painkillers before you sleep, they’re extra strength.” Johnny’s turned away from him, fumbling with something in his bag that Tomasso knows he doesn’t need. 

“Come here,” he says instead. He watches Johnny stiffen from where he’s squat. The other man doesn’t move for a minute and Tommaso has to firmly hold his ground or be seen a foolish jackass. Which he is - that is true. 

“What?” but Johnny is already making his way over, an expression of acquiescence poorly concealed by indifference on his face. He comes to stand just barely between the v of Tommaso’s legs with arms folded over his chest. Tommaso tentatively places a hand on Johnny’s hip while making sure to hold his gaze so as not to spook him. Johnny only watches him with dark wary eyes.

“Friends?” Tommaso offers and Johnny only scoffs.

“Don’t play with me,” he murmurs lowly but a tiny smile tickles the corner of his mouth. 

Tommaso smiles back and pulls Johnny down by his wrist so that he can catch his mouth in a kiss. He’s obviously taken by surprise because he gasps into Tommaso’s mouth but he shuffles closer nonetheless and settles a hand on Tommaso’s beard covered jawline. His mouth is just as soft as Tommaso remembers it being, the curve of his back under his hands exactly the same as he left it. _Good._ Tomasso thinks. He bites Johnny’s bottom lip for emphasis before pulling back. 

Johnny blinks owlishly down at him, “I don’t know whether to slap you or not,” he admits. 

Tommaso takes this as a good sign and merely pulls Johnny into his lap, careful of his shoulder which doesn’t hurt as much as before now that Johnny’s made it better. Johnny makes things better. Tommaso’s mouth slides to Johnny’s neck who huffs out a laugh above him, 

“You need to trim your beard.”

If it were anyone else but him Tommaso would have kicked their ass for saying that. Instead he tightens his hand on Johnny’s hip and slides his other one just under the shirt hem at the small of his back. Johnny shivers but lets him rub the skin there, pliant as ever straddling his lap. He smells distinctly like himself with a hint of hotel soap and Tommaso presses his nose further into Johnny’s collar bone to chase the familiar smell. From where Johnny’s shivering in his lap Tommaso can feel the hard line forming in Johnny’s pants, an unforgettable warm heavy weight against his abdomen. 

He snuffles and gasps when Tommaso’s hand slides to cup the gradually hardening length of him through the front of his shorts and grinds down in a moment of pure instinct and adrenaline with a sharp intake of breath. Tommaso doesn’t rush it but slides his hand instead to the tops of Johnny’s near hairless thighs, running his hands up to his hips and back down. Johnny trembles under his hands but slides closer nonetheless to press their foreheads together. 

Tommaso’s eyes shoot up to find Johnny’s eyes locked on the sight where his thumbs are pressed weakly into the v line of his hips. Johnny’s own fingers clutch at the back of Tommaso’s neck a warm and grounding presence that Tommaso finds himself smiling about. He grinds up and presses Johnny to his own aching crotch with a hand against the small of his back and Johnny arches in surprise before meeting him with a small pleased noise. Tommaso suddenly remembers something,

“You’re so _good._ ” He whispers and Johnny stills above him before letting out a shaky moan.

His fingers scrabble against Tommaso’s neck before sliding down to press both palms against Tommaso’s chest. Dark eyes meet clear grey for a split second before Johnny closes his eyes and presses their lips together again. He kisses like he’s starved, tongue a hazy familiar presence in Tommaso’s mouth who groans into the kiss. He purposefully grinds down and arches against Tommaso’s firm hold, his back a sweet gentle arch and Tommaso realizes he wants to be on top of him yesterday. 

He shifts under Johnny a bit before gently patting the curve of his ass to signal him to stand. Johnny’s reluctant to break the kiss but he stands back without a verbal cue, one hand gripping his bicep while he stands stock still. Tommaso walks around to the side of the bed he claimed earlier and starts to get in before he notices that Johnny hasn’t moved. His eyebrows raise and Johnny sways as if torn for a moment, the hard line in his shorts prominent in the dim lamp light. 

“I don’t want to have sex with you right now,” Johnny murmurs. He can’t meet Tommaso’s eyes again. And Tommaso’s eyes widen in realization.

“You don’t have to-” he straightens up, “This doesn’t mean we have to.” 

Johnny visibly relaxes at that with a shy smile and makes his way over to the other side of the bed.

“Don’t ever think that you have to do something you don’t want to,” Tommaso swallows, he’d forgotten how easily Johnny could be taken advantage of as if he hadn’t done so over and over again, “Okay?” But he would never even think to do that to him sexually. The thought of Johnny’s eager to please demeanor suddenly makes Tommaso frightened for him.

Johnny nods as he gets under the white duvet and shuffles closer to Tommaso’s side of the bed with expectancy. Tommaso can’t get the thought of someone taking sexual advantage of Johnny out of his head and Johnny must notice his hesitation because he looks up at him with a small smile.

“You worry too much,” he says easily, “I can take care of myself.”

But Tommaso can’t help but remember the slack jawed expression on his face when he’d threw him into the titantron and kneed him in the face before leaving him to be stretchered out. His title shines from where it’s still perched by his pillow and Tommaso grabs it to put it with his bag. He doesn’t miss the way Johnny’s smile drops when he sees Tommaso reach for the title instead of him. To make up for it, Tommaso rushes to get under the covers after and Johnny’s eyes light up again. His toes are cold where they press against Tommaso’s calves and he hisses with feigned annoyance but doesn’t pull away. Instead he curls his arm around Johnny’s tiny waist and pulls him into his chest. Johnny melts under his chin, pliant as Tommaso inches his knee between both of Johnny’s legs and slips his fingers underneath the thinning material of his shirt. Technically their shirt. Johnny gives a familiar delighted sigh at the physical affection and snuffles quietly against Tommaso’s chest. When Tommaso pushes his knee further between Johnny’s legs, his thigh brushes against the solid weight of Johnny’s length and Johnny only presses himself closer.

“Are you okay?” the gentleness of his voice surprises Tommaso himself. Johnny shifts so that Tommaso can’t tell where their separate bodies begin and nods, 

“Can you turn off the light?” 

Tommaso reaches over him to flick off the lamp.

The sudden darkness makes Johnny’s body feel even more familiar and Tommaso rests his chin over the crown of his head with a soft sigh. Some nagging habit from ages ago makes him lean down to press his lips against Johnny’s hair line before he pulls back in shock at himself. Neither of them bring it up. This is undoubtedly better than sleeping with the silent coldness of Goldie beside him. 

\--

“Oh, so what are you, his lapdog now?” More than half of the hallway turns around in surprise and Tommaso’s grip on his own title hardens. But Velveteen isn’t looking at him, his glare focused instead on Johnny behind purple tinted glasses. 

“This is cute and everything,” he motions between the two of them, “But it’s not about you anymore-” 

“Shut up,” Tommaso says it once with a scowl. He steps forward a little so that he’s barely in front of Johnny. Behind Velveteen, Ricochet is already reaching out to grab his shoulder and pull him back but Velveteen shakes out of his grip.

“Hey, man come on,” Ricochet half whispers amidst the interested onlookers. His eyes slip to Johnny holding his old title on his shoulder and he can only press his lips together without comment. Velveteen throws Tommaso his own sour expression and turns to Johnny again,

“So what? You don’t talk now?” His frown only deepens when Johnny’s eyes slide to the floor and away from the question in Ricochet’s eyes, _Are you not Johnny Wrestling anymore?_

“Let’s not do this here,” Kassius pushes through the crowd as a voice of reason. He pointedly looks at Johnny with a displeased expression but puts a hand up between Tommaso and Velveteen’s chests. 

“That championship is _mine_ ,” Velveteen growls over Kassius’ shoulder, “Thanks for holding it for me!”

Something unidentifiable lurches in Tommaso’s gut and he lunges at Velveteen around Kassius’ body who makes an attempt to grab him but only catches his shirt. Ricochet pulls Velveteen back at barely the last second and Tommaso feels Johnny’s arm sliding around his waist to pull him back with brute force. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Tommaso tries to lunge again but this time Kassius blocks him with his full body and the audience in the hallway turns into a barricade rather than a parting sea. 

“Stop, stop,” he thinks it’s Johnny’s voice in his ear but there’s a dull roar of everyone’s voices at once trying to drown him out. 

When the dust has settled and Johnny’s arm on him is the only other weight he can feel, Tommaso realizes his anger had spiked again without a second thought. Velveteen’s smiling and waving his fingers with loud bursts of obnoxious laughter from the other end of the hallway while Ricochet drags him back by the shirt hem. His anger had completely blinded him, the moment seemed like a blip of time when really it had been minutes in process. 

“We’re good, you’re okay,” Johnny murmurs as he lets go. 

Tommaso doesn’t miss the disapproving look that Kassius gives to Johnny who only shrinks back from his glare to tend to his friend. So they’re friends now? He rubs his hand hard against his face and frowns again. When he opens his eyes Johnny is watching him with a worried expression on his usually smiling face, thumb rubbing against the delicate skin on the inside of Tommaso’s wrist. Tommaso’s grip is loose on the belt against his chest. He breathes hard and Kassius looks between them ready to break up another fight that he expects will happen. Everyone remaining in the general area seems to also be holding their breaths, watching the two of them through the corner of their eyes. 

The obvious stares makes something akin to shame burn Tommaso’s face so instead he doesn’t do what people expect and curls his arm around Johnny’s neck to press his mouth against his warm temple. Johnny looks up at him with shy awe when he pulls back and Kassius narrows his eyes again before finally turning to leave without a passing comment in the direction that Ricochet and Velveteen disappeared to. 

“Okay?” Tommaso searches Johnny’s face who nods slowly,

“Are _you_ okay?” 

Tommaso merely hums and shrugs in a mimic of Johnny’s own new habit of answering, which causes a wide grin to spread across Johnny’s face and he pushes his forehead against Tommaso’s shoulder with an exasperated tiny giggle. Tommaso merely cocks his head and smirks, small smile dropping when he makes eye contact with a nearby stage hand. The man drops his eyes quickly and turns away in feigned disinterest. 

\--

Much to Tommaso’s surprise, the audience continues rallying behind Johnny - even going so far as to supporting Tommaso in tiny unpredictable bursts of cheering merely because of their association with each other - it’s slightly unnerving. Yet when he turns to Johnny’s smiling awestruck face in the ring, he can’t help but understand the heart that everyone loves. Backstage, Johnny presses up against Tommaso’s side and Tommaso lets him, aware of the hesitant looks people send their way while Johnny continues on like nothing is unusual. 

Adam Cole approaches Tommaso before their halftime heat triple tag match in a bout of enthusiasm and smacks him on the shoulder. His excitement is met with a scowl and Adam stops bouncing,

“Damn, what’s got you all upset?” his lips quirk like he’s told the greatest joke.

Tommaso mostly ignores him and continues taping his hand, watching the methodical movement of the tape stretching over his skin.

“I think it’s a bit weird that _Mr. Wrestling_ is on our team, huh?” Adam jabs him in the ribs with his elbow and Tommaso scowls at the ceiling for a second before returning to his work. He says Johnny’s moniker like it’s the name of someone’s worst ex girlfriend and it makes something akin to anger rise in Tommaso’s gut. He doesn’t answer.

“I also think it’s weird that you aren’t so eager to defend this anymore,” suddenly Tommaso looks up to realize that Adam’s holding up Goldie and admiring the circles of his name plates, “Seems like you’ve gone a little soft.” He runs his fingers over the groove of Tommaso’s name and grips the metal like he’s going to try to pull a plate out. 

Adam flashes him his wide trademark smile and Tommaso makes to lunge at him. Adam steps back before he can fist his shirt and drops Goldie back onto the crate that Tommaso had placed it on, both hands up in mock apology.

“You really should watch your fucking mouth,” Tommaso sneers. He snatches Goldie up before Adam can take it again and pulls the belt to his chest in a tight grip. Adam’s smirk only widens as he drops his eyes to the belt and back up to Tommaso’s piercing look.

“I’m just messing,” he steps forward again and Tommaso takes one step back, hackles rising. 

“Watch yourself or you won’t even get a chance to look at this title again,” Tommaso rolls his neck and fingers at the loose tape on his wrist. His nose twitches in a burst of uncontrollable rage. 

The sound of footsteps pull them apart and suddenly Johnny is beside him and looking between them with an expression of suspicion. 

“Everything good?” he especially narrows his eyes at Adam who only laughs, hands going up to tighten his hair in his bun. 

“Of course,” he grins again, “Ciampa and I were just talking about some future matches.” He winks at Tommaso when he says this, eyes zipping to the belt over Johnny’s shoulder before going back to Tommaso. 

Tommaso’s instantly slide his hand to the small of Johnny’s back, grip loosening on his belt but tightening at the hem of Johnny’s shirt, “You’re gonna fucking wish you were dead.” Johnny looks up at him quizzically having missed the subtle pass Adam made at his own title. 

Adam puts on a shocked face, hand flying to his chest in mock disbelief, “I thought we were a team!” 

“Today.” Tommaso clarifies. He guides Johnny around Adam who goes with him without a sound of protest or further question and Adam only laughs that loud obnoxious laugh he does when he thinks everything is going his way.

\--

Another day Candice corners him in the Full Sail hallway. She’s obviously trying to hold back her anger as she takes a deep breath before Tommaso can even open his mouth.

“Ciampa, I don’t know what you’re playing at,” she jabs a finger at his chest concealed by the belt in his hold, “You think it’s funny to mess with Johnny, huh?” She shoves him once with both hands on his shoulders but he doesn’t react, only looks down at her mildly. “You think you’re _so good_ , huh?” She looks close to tearing her hair out, eyes a wild fiery glow where they’re usually soft and sweet. 

“I just don’t understand you- you _fucking_ -” She stamps her foot, “Ugh!”

Unexpectedly she huffs before stopping her onslaught. She looks exhausted.

“Ciampa, what are you doing?” her voice is small and hurt and she looks up at him with genuine concern, “You know he loves you right?”

Tommaso flinches at the thought and her lips turn down at his reaction. She crosses her own arms across her chest in a mockery of him and his Goldie. Tommaso can only narrow his eyes but she does so back. 

“Just because you have your own issues doesn’t mean you’re allowed to fuck him over again,” Tommaso turns his head from her and presses his lips together in annoyance, “We get it, you’re obsessed with messing with him.” 

“You never fucking _listen_ to me.” She says this quietly and to herself, “All you care about is yourself and you’re stupid belt.” 

With that she turns and leaves, Tommaso watches her go until she disappears around a corner. 

He pretends her words don’t bother him.


	2. Ch 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aleister cocks his head like he can read the turmoil spilt in Tommaso’s head, “You sound defensive.”
> 
> Tommaso almost lunges then and there, “You would too if people kept fucking looking at you like they expect better! You really think I’m better than that? You really _fucking_ think so?”

Everyone crowds around the backstage monitor when Johnny gets hurt. The match was not meant to be anything serious, just a friendly competition between Johnny and Tony Nese but midway through Tommaso could already tell that something wasn’t right in the way Johnny moved. He had been the only one standing by the monitors at first, from time to time people would join him in silence and loom in the background while watching the match but no one ever spoke to him nor acknowledged that he was even there. With arms crossed over his chest to keep from giving away his panic, Tommaso’s heart pounds in realization as Johnny cups his hand to the ref’s ear and subtly winces at his leg. 

People passing by stop to murmur, being wrestlers themselves they can easily tell that Johnny isn’t up to par and Tony notices too, deliberately slowing down when he remembers that the match doesn’t mean anything. And after all, Johnny Gargano is not a bad guy, why should he hurt him? Tony’s not _that_ bad. The audience doesn’t seem to notice, believing that Johnny is only selling an injury to trick Tony into the Gargano Escape but Tommaso knows better. Beside him he hears someone whisper his name in conversation and he practically snaps his neck to scowl at them.

Aleister looks back at him from where he was speaking with Ricochet and he doesn’t drop his gaze even as Tommaso purposely deepens his frown. Instead, Tommaso ends up being the one to look away, distracted by the commotion on the screen. Johnny does end up getting Tony into a submission move that puts him out and ends the match in Johnny’s favor but he doesn’t look up to celebrating as he beckons the ref back to him while his music plays over their voices. Tommaso twitches, ready to make his way to the stage entrance. He feels a nudge against his side and looks down to see Candice pursing her lips.

“You gonna go help him or what?” she looks expectant and so does everyone else when Tommaso looks around. 

Johnny is definitely friends with more than half of the crowd in front of him but they all look at him like they’re expecting him to be the one to help Johnny backstage. His mouth twitches in a frown but he says nothing to Candice or anyone. His look must be severe enough that people start to drop their eyes in embarrassment or shame. Tommaso doesn’t stay to find out which and half runs over to the stage entrance while attempting to keep his face neutral. His leave already tells people more than he intended.

Tony comes through the curtain first but before he spots Tommaso he immediately turns to help Johnny through, slinging an arm around his shoulder while the ref takes his other side. Johnny winces, half limping but he smiles at Tony regardless while thanking him profusely in a quiet whisper.

They almost immediately collide with Tommaso’s chest as he reaches out instinctively to take Johnny from both of the other men.

“I’m really sorry, man. I didn’t mean to,” Tony looks guiltily at Tommaso’s attempt at a neutral expression, “It was an accident-I don’t even know what happened,” his eyebrows knit together, “I wouldn’t want to hurt you. I have too much respect for that.”

Johnny holds his hand up to wave Tony off and Tommaso slings an arm around his hip, allowing Johnny to curl his arm over his shoulders. The heat of the sweat rolling off of Johnny’s body doesn’t even bother him.

“Don’t apologize, I know you didn’t mean to. It happens,” Johnny smiles reassuringly, “Honest, I’m not mad.” 

Tony seems to exhale in relief but his eyes still flit up to Tommaso as if looking for some sign of confirmation. Tommaso says nothing but he squeezes Johnny’s hip and slides his hand into Johnny’s over his shoulder. Tony shifts uncomfortably at the tangle of their fingers until the ref cuts in, 

“You should probably get examined.” He nods at Johnny and Tommaso, “Do you want a stretcher?”

“No, no,” Johnny laughs in surprise and Tommaso’s own lips quirk up at the thought, “I think I just need ice but yeah I should get checked out.” 

He starts to pull Tommaso in the direction that the ref motions him to follow but Tommaso stops him and Johnny looks up in confusion. Strong hands heft him up under his thighs and suddenly Johnny is being carried like a bride, laughing at the sudden movement. His arms instinctively tighten around Tommaso’s neck as he carefully maneuvers him so that his bad leg isn’t being held too tightly. Tony rubs the back of his neck while he watches them and Tommaso raises his eyebrows at him as if daring him to comment. Tony merely drops his eyes from Tommaso but shoots Johnny one last apologetic smile before turning to go to the locker rooms. 

“Okay?” Tommaso asks and Johnny nods, grin wide while sweat slips down between his eyebrows.

“It’s honestly not too painful,” Johnny says but Tommaso rolls his eyes,

“You don’t have to be so modest all the time,” he grumbles, “It’s only me,” he adds quietly.

Johnny’s smile dips a fraction as he studies Tommaso’s features. Tommaso pretends that he can’t feel Johnny’s eyes on him as he carries him through the hallway, the only thing in his line of focus being the stripes of the ref’s shirt. For as long as Tommaso has known him, Johnny has always been like this. Ladders to the head or back against unpadded cemented ground, Johnny will only wince and reluctantly let Tommaso look after him. He can only imagine the person who took care of Johnny after he’d pulled his whole betrayal debacle; probably someone who couldn’t tell if Johnny was in actual pain or not. Maybe it wasn’t anyone. Maybe Johnny stopped trusting so easily.

“It’s really not that bad,” Johnny says again and Tommaso can still feel his eyes burning a hole into the side of his head in an attempt to read his thoughts. 

Aleister is leaning against the doorway where the medical bay is set up and he moves aside for the ref but purses his lips at Tommaso and Johnny. Johnny seems to purposely turn from his gaze to rest his head on Tommaso’s collar bone and Tommaso only glares at the unreadable expression on Aleister’s face. It feels like he wants to remind Johnny that Tommaso is an awful _awful_ person, well he doesn’t need to because Tommaso already knows; knew way before he had inspired Johnny to lay Aleister out in the Full Sail parking lot. Johnny deserves so much better.

Nevertheless, he shoulders his way past Aleister who doesn’t make a comment and only turns to leave. In the room he sits Johnny on a table top while a medic hurries over with an ice pack. Johnny takes it reluctantly but smiles thankfully at the medic who pays him no mind but pulls out a tiny flashlight to check for concussions.

“He’s not concussed,” Tommaso says but the medic, someone new to them, waves this off.

“We have to make sure anyway,” he looks over his shoulder at Tommaso before turning back to Johnny, “You can go.”

Tommaso glowers at him, angry interjection at the tip of his tongue but Johnny reaches out for him instead and he instantly simmers down and un clenches his fist. He allows Johnny to take his wrist and pull him to his side, Tommaso’s hand instantly settling on the exposed skin of his hip. The medic exhales in annoyance but Johnny flashes him one of his charming apologetic smiles before the man turns away,

“Okay, five minutes and then he has to go,” he doesn’t sound as dismissive as he did when he had spoken to Tommaso. 

He and the ref speak quietly on their way out, hopefully to discuss Johnny’s actual injury rather than the one the medic appears to want to make up. Tommaso tentatively slips into the space between Johnny’s legs, careful not to rest his hand against the strained one. Johnny has a small smile on his face as he goes to cup Tommaso’s face, affectionate as ever. A thousand conversations are shared in their tiny moments of intimacy.

“Thank you for carrying me here,” Tommaso scoffs and rolls his eyes at that,

“As if you had to ask me to.” Johnny’s smile widens at this and Tommaso doesn’t miss the way his eyes slide down to his mouth then back up to meet his eyes. Sudden impulse and nostalgia causes Tommaso to lean forward and rest their foreheads together and Johnny gasps delighted but he plays it off by closing his eyes around an ever widening grin. It gives Tommaso time to study his expression, heart surging.

“You’re going to tell them if you’re actually hurt, okay?” Tommaso instructs. His hands fumble at Johnny’s sides before sliding up and down the expanse of his small waist. Johnny rolls his eyes,

“Yes, sir” he jokes with a salute and Tommaso shakes his head before pulling back completely at the sound of footsteps returning. Overcome with sudden confidence, he leans forward to catch Johnny’s mouth in a chaste kiss, hand curling in the damp hair at the base of Johnny’s neck. 

Wide brown eyes peer up at him when he pulls back and he sighs deeply before dropping another quick kiss between Johnny’s thick brows. 

“I have a match but I’ll help you to the car right after,” he watches Johnny’s tongue dart out to lick his lips in what looks like unawareness. Johnny nods and squeezes his hand,

“Good luck in your match,” he whispers and Tommaso ruffles his hair with a soft smile before finally turning to leave.

The medic says nothing but nods at him with an understanding expression when he walks out. Tommaso almost runs into Aleister when he rounds the corner and his bad mood suddenly surges again.

“Are you fucking following me?” He tries to shoulder past but Aleister stands in his way again.

“I’m not going to fight you right now,” always the voice of reason, Aleister crosses his arms over his chest and Tommaso does the same without even thinking about it, “But you’ve really been rocking the boat recently.” 

Tommaso seethes at the implications of his words and jabs a finger against his shirt front, “Listen, you _fucking_ homophobic piece of shit-”

Aleister cuts him off with a raise of his hand and a surprised chuckle, “No-it’s not that.” 

Tommaso only glares back and changes his direction, “So what? Are you his friend now? In case you don’t remember, _I_ wasn’t the one who attacked you in the parking lot. He did that himself.” Even when he says the words he knows deep down that Johnny wouldn’t have done so without his influence.

Aleister cocks his head like he can read the turmoil spilt in Tommaso’s head, “You sound defensive.”

Tommaso almost lunges then and there, “You would too if people kept fucking looking at you like they expect better! You really think I’m better than that? You really _fucking_ think so?” 

Aleister watches him with a pitying expression and Tommaso pushes him aside, “I don’t fucking need this.” 

Aleister grabs his arm before he can fully pass and Tommaso wrenches out of his grip, eyes livid, “Don’t think you can fucking touch me!” 

“I don’t think either of you are bad people.” Aleister says. With that, he lets Tommaso go who side eyes him and pushes past without another glance back. 

\--

He carries Johnny to the car in silence even when Johnny tries to prod at him to get him to say something. 

“Hey be nice to me! I’m hurt,” Johnny jokes. He swats playfully at Tommaso’s shoulder with a wide smile across his face. Tommaso tenses - an image of Johnny grovelling for mercy at his feet flashes before his eyes. He can only squeeze Johnny tighter against him to counteract the memory of the sound of Johnny’s head making contact with his knee.

Now in loose sweats and a t shirt, Johnny doesn’t look at bad as before - the medic had ended up only prescribing him ice and some rest. People had offered to help carry their bags when Tommaso was leaving the locker room with his duffel hanging over his arm while Johnny carried his backpack in his hands. He had shot them questioning looks and apparently he had looked angry enough that people started to back off, even when Johnny would kindly say no from where he was perched in Tommaso’s arms.

While they’re still parked in the lot, Johnny slides a hand over top of Tommaso’s much to his surprise. He tangles their fingers and thumbs over the back of Tommaso’s hand in soothing circles that make Tommaso shakily exhale. His breathing is loud in the quiet of the car.

“What’s wrong?” Johnny’s voice is small and far from the joking attitude that he had on the way there. 

Tommaso shakes his head but he flips his hand palm up to better hold Johnny’s hand.

“Did I-” Johnny starts before stopping to second guess his words, “Did I do something?”

Tommaso immediately shoots him a look and Johnny shrinks back but doesn’t pull his hand away, it makes Tommaso’s chest ache. His eyes start to well with tears that he can’t stop and he doesn’t realize he’s started crying until the ugly foreign sounds reach his ears. For a moment he doesn’t even understand what’s happening until Johnny reaches over the console to wrap his arms around his neck and press his mouth against his temple.

“Hey, hey,” he murmurs against his skin, “Talk to me, okay? What happened?”

Tommaso grips his arm and turns his face into Johnny’s shoulder. For some reason he can’t stop the shudders that wrack his body, something he hadn’t had to do in a long time. Johnny is patient with him, cooing nonsensical things into his ear while rubbing his neck. After what feels like ages, Tommaso can finally catch his breath again and he draws back to lean against the cool glass of the driver’s side window with his eyes closed.

“Do you want to talk?” Johnny’s voice is barely above a whisper and he reaches out again to slide his hand against Tommaso’s jean clad upper thigh. The feeling of his fingers so close to his crotch snap Tommaso out of his daze and he sits up to push Johnny’s hand away. Johnny looks hurt but he doesn’t say anything, only waits for Tommaso to be ready to talk. He really is good.

Tommaso scrubs a hand across his face and sniffles once before rubbing his nose on his sweater sleeve. 

“I’m sorry,” he has so much to apologize for, “About this-but also about-” his voice is choked and he has to stop himself before he bursts into tears again. He dry heaves once and Johnny tentatively rubs his arm through it. It hurts his head to think too hard about what he wants to say so he starts again through gritted teeth and tightly screwed eyes. 

“I think that-” he has to phrase this right. Johnny needs to know, “I think that you’re good.” Johnny watches him quizzically but doesn’t intervene, “And I’m sorry that I ever- that I ever hurt you, or made you think- think that you weren’t.” He can’t look Johnny in the eye, instead his gaze is fixed on the fence right outside of the car windshield, “And I know- I know that you don’t ever have to-to forgive me. You always say it’s okay but it’s _not_. I know you. It’s _not_.” 

He grips the steering wheel tight enough that his knuckles turn white, “I know that I’m awful. I don’t ever expect to be better,” he sniffles and has to hold back another wet sob, “But you’re so _good_ , Johnny. What are you _doing_ here?” His eyes drift to the grey ceiling before he closes them again and squeezes the steering wheel. His heart pounds in his chest, his world at the mercy of Johnny’s kindness. 

He feels a warm hand slide over his on the wheel and he relaxes his fingers to let Johnny hold them. After a minute of prolonged silence where Tommaso thinks that Johnny’s finally given up on him, Johnny speaks. 

“You know,” Johnny’s voice is gentle, “I did those things on my own.” Tommaso looks over, blinking away his tears, “I chose to be where I am now.” He shifts in his seat to tuck the ice pack he’d been given underneath his bad leg.

“People always treat me like I can’t make choices on my own- or, or like I’m some obedient dog,” he glances up at Tommaso before staring back at his legs, “You didn’t make me do anything to get where I am. I _let_ you influence me because I wanted to be here.” With that he motions between them, “I want-” he licks his lips, “I’m here because I worked myself here...purposely.”

He turns his body in the passenger seat to face Tommaso, “And - and you know? I don’t think you’re a bad guy, Tommaso. No one is strictly good or bad. You think you’re so,” he pauses, “You think you’re so terrible but when I’m with you I know that you’re not.” He shushes Tommaso before he can interject, “How are you gonna tell me you’re a bad person when you literally carried me here?” He laughs quietly at that and Tommaso cracks a smile.

They both sit back in comfortable silence that lasts for long minutes while Tommaso fiddles with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. His heart has stopped racing somewhat and his anxiety gradually cools with the sound of Johnny shifting around in his seat. He startles slightly when Johnny’s voice cuts through the silence.

“I think you built yourself up in your mind to _seem_ like you’re some evil dude, but you’re just a big sap.” Tommaso shoots him a glare that melts into an easy smile when they make eye contact. Johnny laughs and squeezes Tommaso’s shoulder.

“And for the record, I accept your apology.” Tommaso’s smile drops at that, mouth parting ready to protest.

“Hey, hey- It’s my choice,” Johnny cuts in, “I’m choosing to forgive you because I know that you’re better than that.” His hand slides down to pat Tommaso’s knee, “And even if you’re not, I forgive you for my own peace of mind.” 

Tommaso huffs but he allows himself to relax and rubs at his eyes. When he looks over, Johnny reaches across again to put a hand on his shoulder for balance and leans in to press a kiss against his cheek,

“Thank you for worrying about me,” he smiles, “In case you didn’t know, it shows that you care.” 

He slides his arms around Tommaso’s neck, half kneeling on his good knee so that he can pull Tommaso into a proper hug. The compact car makes maneuvering awkward but Tommaso slides his arms around Johnny’s waist to rub circles at the small of his sweater clad back. 

“Can we go, now?” Johnny asks and Tommaso laughs at his eagerness before starting the car.

“Put on your seatbelt then.” Johnny smiles to himself but does what he’s told anyway.

 

\--

 

The room is dark save for the soft golden glow of the bedside lamp when Tommaso steps out of the bathroom. Johnny’s sprawled on his belly over the covers in just his white pajama shirt and dark briefs and he perks his head up when the light from the bathroom washes over the bed. 

“Hi,” his voice is sleep rough as he tucks his arm under his head and Tommaso can’t help the chuckle that escapes his throat. 

“Go to sleep, why the hell are you still up?” he nudges Johnny’s head, dark sleep matted hair at his temples, who only leans into his hand before Tommaso can pull back. His leg is already a lot better after he had refrained from putting too much pressure on it. 

Johnny smacks his lips together like he’s just awaken and blinks dazedly. The gentle light makes him look ever soft, the purpling under his eyes not so prominent as usual. Tommaso crawls onto the bed and settles beside his friend who’s eyes have slipped closed again only to blink open at the dip of the bed. Johnny watches with half lidded eyes as Tommaso barely grazes his fingers over the dip of his back, fingers catching in the thin shirt material before nipping at the slight exposed skin of his lower back.

“You know, this shirt is yours,” Johnny mumbles. The fingers at his back still for a millisecond before resuming their barely there gentle caress and Tommaso swallows,

“Yeah?” he holds his breath. Johnny in his sleepy state doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Mmhmm,” Johnny’s eyes are closed again, arms pillowing his head, “You let me borrow it before we got signed.” 

Tommaso hums in response but he doesn’t trust himself to say anything. _I love you_ tickles at his throat and he clears it, turning his head when Johnny blinks awake again with expectancy before sliding his eyes shut once more. Tommaso’s fingers find their way under the hem of Johnny’s shirt again, warmth radiating off of Johnny’s golden skin. He eyes continuously flit between Johnny’s lashes fanned out over his cheeks and his own hand moving on its own accord. He dips his fingers into the curve of Johnny’s back and thumbs over the slope of his side in a familiar pattern. Johnny chuckles under him, his back shaking gently with the expression.

“You always do that,” he says with eyes closed. Tommaso frowns,

“Do what?” 

Johnny peeks an eye open, a small smile at the corner of his mouth. He jerks his head back where Tommaso’s got his hands on him, “ _That_ , you always do that.”

Self consciously, Tommaso starts to pull away but Johnny quickly stops him,

“No-no, it’s not bad,” he arches like a cat for a moment before settling again, Tommaso’s hand instinctively curving over the skin left exposed as his shirt rides up, “I like when you do it.” He shifts and mumbles, “Even before.”

Tommaso doesn’t know what to say to that but his heart has started jumping erratically and he breathes deeply to try to relax. Johnny doesn’t seem to notice or care, whichever one - Tommaso will tell himself anything to make the ache in his chest go away again. His hand seems to float on its own accord, settling at the start of the gentle curve at the top of Johnny’s briefs. Johnny doesn’t seem to mind, quiet and dozing lightly with his face inches from Tommaso’s. 

He hesitates before moving his hand all the way up the length of Johnny’s back underneath his shirt and rubs slow circles in the relaxed muscle. Underneath his fingertips, he can feel the strength of the other man’s body before Johnny shifts closer, eyes intent on finding Tommaso’s. This time he doesn’t eye the safe space between Tommaso’s brows but instead Tommaso catches the hint of desire swimming in the deep warmth of his eyes seconds before Johnny has his mouth on his.

Johnny’s eager and sweet like honey with how he draws closer, tucking himself against Tommaso’s chest and presses a knee between his legs. His hands can’t help but draw Johnny closer sliding up and down the length of his back underneath his shirt before cupping the gentle curve of his ass over the cotton material of his briefs. Johnny gasps with a sweet sound into his mouth but presses back against his hand and tries to spread his legs over Tommaso’s. His fingers find the space between Johnny’s legs, hand curving to fit against the once familiar contour while his other hand finds its way to cupping the delicate line of Johnny’s neck. In turn, Johnny cups his jaw in his mess of beard and fumbles with the drawstring of Tommaso’s joggers. He tugs at the waist band and Tommaso has to pull back from the kiss to look him in the eyes again.

“What?” he searches Johnny’s face whose hands have stilled from where they are hooked in his pants. 

Johnny’s eyes are half lidded, his voice thick, “What?” he repeats.

Tommaso searches his face, trying to make sense of how they even got here. Johnny’s doing the same, licking his lips and looking Tommaso over in what looks like a sudden burst of timidness. 

“I’m sorry,” Johnny starts, “I should have asked first.” He starts to pull back but Tommaso curls his hand tighter around his waist. 

“You’re unbelievable,” he finds himself whispering and a smile blooms across his boy’s face who presses himself even closer to kiss Tommaso’s cheek. 

“Can I?” Johnny looks up at him with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, shyness over asking directly starting to pink his face even in the dim light.

Tommaso shifts up onto his elbows and nods. He could already feel how hard he was when he’d first lay eyes on Johnny’s dozing form, presumably Johnny knew when he’d started trying to ride his leg like a dog in heat. His mind fizzles out for a second when Johnny presses a hand into his joggers, the other one pulling the material down low enough to free Tommaso’s hard length. Johnny immediately goes to nose at the dark pubic hair at the base of his balls, warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin there while he fists the base of Tommaso’s dick. He presses his mouth against the underside of Tommaso’s cock in a chaste kiss, hand smoothing over the head of his cock in a dry hold that makes Tommaso see stars. Johnny purposefully sucks hard at the skin of his taint before pressing his mouth against his balls and nosing at the hair at the base. 

Tommaso curses and tries not to buck up while Johnny sits up to tuck his legs under himself before leaning back over to get his mouth on Tommaso. He’s not shy about his eagerness to please and the sudden warm wetness over the head of his cock has Tommaso groaning, hand flying out to cup the back of Johnny’s neck. Johnny laves his tongue over the length of his cock before dropping his mouth over the head again to suck him down, fingers rolling the expanse of Tommaso’s balls gently. There’s nothing that Tommaso can do but sit there and take it with a hand fisting the heap of duvet by his side as Johnny bobs his head quickly, pressing himself further and further down each time until the sound of his throat working to keep from gagging almost sends Tommaso shooting off.

There’s a soft _gluck_ noise every time Johnny pushes himself down to the base, his throat a tight suction over the head of Tommaso’s cock. It’s every bit divine he remembers it being, down to the wet wide eyed look Johnny gives him when his nose is pressed against the hair on his pubic bone. Johnny pulls off slowly, drool and gunk following him and connecting the pink of his mouth to the pink of Tommaso’s cockhead. He gags softly as he pulls back, a sloppy quiet noise sounding from the warmth of his overworked throat but even then, he looks heaven sent and perfectly debauched. 

“Oh dove,” Tommaso can’t stop the affection pouring from his lips, “My sweet _sweet_ boy.”

Johnny glows at the praise, even with the mess of spit running down his chin and caught in his beard, Tommaso can’t help but pull him forwards by his shirt front to lick into the pink mess of his mouth. Johnny practically whimpers, one hand caught on Tommaso’s naked hip while the other has fingers curled hard into his shoulder to keep his balance. His kiss is mostly open mouthed and slack jawed but Tommaso chases after the taste of himself anyway, careful of the glazed look in Johnny’s eyes and the way his grip has loosened. 

Johnny pulls back after a minute of slow kisses to straddle one of Tommaso’s legs while pressing himself back down over Tommaso’s cock. This time he merely swallows him down in one go, throat obviously working around the intrusion. Tommaso bucks up once on instinct and doesn’t miss the guttural moan that Johnny releases, pushing himself back up with some kind of reluctance, both hands on Tommaso’s hips.

“You-” he licks his lips, expression dazed in pleasure, “You can fuck my mouth.” 

In complete awe of this boy, Tommaso runs his hands through the damp hair clinging to Johnny’s forehead, heart wrenching at the way Johnny leans into his touch on instinct. He doesn’t directly answer but guides Johnny back down with a litany of praises so that his pink lips can tighten back around his shaft. Tommaso guides him with a hand at the back of his head as he bucks into Johnny’s mouth, gradually building up speed.

Immediately on the first push in, Johnny’s hand slides to his own crotch, squeezing the thickened length of himself in his briefs. He grinds lazily back and forth against Tommaso’s leg, the heat and hardness of his arousal a heavy weight on Tommaso’s exposed skin. He groans around Tommaso’s dick, spit bubbling at the corners of his lips that are drawn tight around a mouthful. He feels like heaven, no, he is. He’s the physical embodiment of everything Tommaso loves. Tommaso gasps as he jerks into his mouth quickly while holding Johnny still by the back of his head. The sounds of gagging and retching pulled from Johnny’s throat only serve to push him forward, huge tearful eyes looking up at him in bliss almost sending Tommaso over the edge.

He forces Johnny’s head down as he pushes up on a particularly hard thrust and Johnny’s hands scramble over his hips and the duvet cover for some kind of purchase. His throat convulses while his nose is crushed up against unyielding pelvic bone. Tommaso watches his back dip as he tries to grind against his leg, face pinking.

“That’s it,” Tommaso finds himself murmuring, “ _Good boy_.”

At last he lets Johnny go who sits up and breathes hard, heaving around the precome oozing from his wound of a mouth and dark beard. Johnny coughs once and a string of phlegm dribbles from his mouth, Tommaso reaches out to smear it away onto the hotel covers while he rubs Johnny’s throat for him with his thumb.

“You did so good,” He has a hard time composing himself, cock an angry red from where it looks like it will shoot at any second, “Took it so _well_.” 

Johnny nuzzles against the hand at his throat while his adam’s apple bobs. He’s unashamedly messy, dizzy on pleasure and in need of constant attention that Tommaso is ready to dish out. He leans forward to mouth at Tommaso’s abs before sliding down to suck the skin of his inner thigh. Tommaso doesn’t even think to consider marks that may be visible when he’s wearing only his ring gear and Johnny seems to forget to as he amuses himself by nipping at any part of Tommaso’s skin that he can get his mouth on. 

He pulls back to once again sheath himself over Tommaso’s cock, hand twisting at the base while his mouth remains a tight suction at the top. Tommaso shudders and watches Johnny bob his head, his own leg twitching with how close to orgasming he is. Johnny seems to notice and looks up at him with wet eyes before popping off. 

“Do you want to come on my face or can I swallow?” His voice is wrecked and scratchy but he coughs with a dribble of mucus. Tommaso groans, eyes slipping closed at the question. _Or can I swallow?_ Johnny’s looking up at him expectantly, hand slowly sliding up and down the length of his shaft. 

“Fuck, you wanna swallow?” Johnny nods already starting to lean forward.

“Can I swallow?”  
Tommaso doesn’t bother verbally responding, instead he pushes Johnny’s head down while jerking his hips upward so that Johnny’s lips wrap around his dick again. He fucks his mouth fast, hyper aware of the sloppy wet sounds coming from the back of Johnny’s throat and the mess of spit bubbling out of his mouth. His beard is a stringy mess of precome and translucent saliva, pink tongue visible just barely from where it’s stretched out underneath the heaviness of Tommaso’s cock. Johnny’s half hysterical, gagging but refraining from pulling back, both hands fisted in the sheets by Tommaso’s hips. Tommaso forces Johnny’s head down for a minute before he comes down his throat, deep enough that Johnny doesn’t even need to work his throat. In a pure state of rapture, Tommaso feels like he’s having an out of body experience - it’s never been this intense. Pure liquid pleasure courses through his veins alongside the image of Johnny’s convulsing back as he forces himself to stay down with Tommaso’s hand at the back of his head. His throat works over the head of Tommaso’s cock as it tries to buck him off but he holds Johnny down until his hips can only twitch lightly in oversensitivity. 

Tommaso bucks up one last time to to make sure that he’s truly emptied out before finally pulling back. Johnny coughs and dry heaves immediately, the pinkness of his lips look swollen and freshly fucked and some white from the slit of Tommaso’s cock follows him back to where he kneels and rubs at his throat. His pupils are dilated, eyes almost a true black when he blinks up at Tommaso and whimpers. 

“Fuck,” Tommaso instantly reaches out for him, “Johnny, baby, come here, come here,” he coos.  
Johnny crawls over to him, still rubbing at his throat with the mess of fluids caught in his beard. There’s a damp spot starting at the front of his underwear, his cock weeping and at full hardness. Tommaso pulls Johnny into his arms so that they are lying beside each other and immediately pushes Johnny’s underwear down while the other man paws at any part of him that he can reach. He’s completely shaven, balls bare and tightly drawn up from how wound up he is already. Johnny whimpers into Tommaso’s throat at the first feeling of a dry hand on the length of his cock and Tommaso jerks him once before pulling back a little to hold his hand out in front of Johnny’s face.

“Spit, okay?” Johnny does and a mess of Tommaso’s own cum and bubbly saliva pool into his hand, “Good boy.”

Johnny pants in obvious delight as Tommaso fists him again, the wet slide of semen making it so much easier to pull him off. He twists his hand over the head of Johnny’s cock in the way he remembers that he likes and Johnny’s leg kicks out with a loud whine against his collar bone. He can feel Johnny’s wet mouth panting hotly against his throat and he turns to catch his mouth in a kiss. The heightened sub space Johnny’s experiencing makes the kiss more messy and wet than an actual kiss but Tommaso sucks on Johnny’s tongue and bites at his bottom lip anyway. Johnny makes the sweetest sounds, little noises fucked out of him with how close he is to coming.

Tommaso jerks Johnny hard and fast and wraps an arm around his neck to keep him close. From the angle he can see Johnny’s eyes start to roll back in bliss, a telltale sign that he’s about to come. The image of his pink parted mouth, tightly knit brows, and shut eyes come from the recesses of of Tommaso’s dirtiest fantasies and he groans as if he’s the one about to come again. Johnny finally spills over his fist with a low groan and a jerk of his hips to meet the sloppy mess of Tommaso’s fist. He comes for a long time, keening low and arching his back upwards to twitch his hips. 

When Johnny finally comes down, Tommaso feels like he’d run an entire marathon or had a second orgasm of his own. He pulls off his shirt to wipe the mess off his hand and both of their abdomens, Johnny mewling softly when he tries to clean up his face. Afterwards, Tommaso helps him the rest of the way out of his underwear and pulls him close, making sure to tuck his knee between both of Johnny’s just how he likes. He smooths back Johnny’s hair from his sweaty forehead and presses his lips against his hairline. 

“You okay?” Tommaso murmurs. He knows that Johnny isn’t capable of forming full sentences at the moment but he tries anyway. He slides his hand up and down Johnny’s back under his shirt and smiles against his skin when the other man only grunts. 

“You’re amazing,” he whispers. Johnny’s already mostly asleep and doesn’t seem to hear him. Tommaso just tucks him under his chin and closes his eyes, trying to match Johnny’s even breathing.

 

\--

Tommaso stops carrying his title around as much because Johnny’s always there to fill the space when he needs it most. He doesn’t realize the change until Johnny asks him,

“Got your belt?” As they’re leaving the hotel room.

Instead, Tommaso’s fingers are caught in the belt loop at the back of Johnny’s jeans - Johnny who has one hand on the door knob and one foot already out the door. Tommaso raises his eyebrows at this and looks around the room one last time before recalling that he had stashed the belt in his bag. He remembers doing so because when they’d finished packing he had had Johnny pressed up against the only table in the room and he obviously couldn’t hold the belt when both hands were frantically holding Johnny down and trying to get under his shirt. Johnny had made the sweetest sounds.

“Uh, yeah. It’s in my bag,” Tommaso doesn’t even bother double checking, rather he slides his hand from the belt loop of Johnny’s pants to the waistband of his jeans where he tucks his hand just under the hem of his shirt. Johnny doesn’t protest but he sidles up beside Tommaso to press a quick kiss to his cheek. It has Tommaso smiling to himself. What have they gotten into? He doesn’t mind anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!!! I don't really know what happened w this entire fic, I got so carried away and now I'm sad to see it go but I loved writing it so much - i love my boys why can't they just make up 
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated! xx


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